Electromagnetism
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: Tony does some verbal math and doesn't like the sum.


Disclaimer: I'm a suitcase.

Spoilers: Minor for _Short Fuse_ and _Worst Nightmare_.

Summary: Tony puts two and two together and comes up with a disconcerting number.

* * *

McGee tapped his fingers on his blotter and watched the digital display in the corner of his monitor click to 12:54. Tony and Ziva had been gone for over half an hour, which was ridiculous because Sammy's was only a ten minute drive and even if the food hadn't been ready when they got there, it shouldn't have taken more than twenty-five minutes. He called up a traffic report on the internet. No accidents or tie-ups on surface streets. Ten minutes there, ten back, so even with a leeway of ten minutes to wait for an order that should have been ready before they even arrived, they were taking more time than strictly necessary.

McGee glanced around to make sure the loud growl his stomach had just emitted hadn't been noticed by anyone else in the bullpen. Not much activity – everyone was probably off eating chicken parmesan sandwiches like the one he should have started enjoying ten minutes ago. This was probably some kind of weird karma for eating a muffin from the coffee shop instead of a balanced breakfast, but he'd been rushed that morning and it had been weeks since he'd succumbed to the lure of the pastry case. Great, now when he was nutrient deprived, he started thinking in Abby's voice. It was two minutes to one! He briefly considered logging onto the security feed at the gate, but decided tracking the GPS in Tony's phone was more practical. And proved totally unnecessary when the elevator pinged.

Making an effort to control the shrill note in his voice, McGee demanded, "Where have you been?"

"Getting lunch." Tony tossed his coat over the back of his chair. Disturbingly, it was the only thing that had been in his hands when he'd entered the bullpen.

"Did you miss the main point of _getting_ lunch?"

"My younger, fitter partner is carrying it up to spare my feeble body the strain," Tony said, crossing his arms and pouting as he sat grumpily in his chair.

McGee rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'll bite. What's the problem?"

He had to wait while Tony stared at him, rose and walked slowly toward him. "_Ziva_ thinks I'm attractive. _Me_!"

_Had to ask, Tim. Just had to ask._ "And this is a bad thing?"

Tony plopped on the corner of McGee's desk, narrowly missing the keyboard. "I mean, if she'd said Ducky, okay, or even Gibbs, but me! _Me_, Mc-…Mc-…oh, God. Early Alzheimer's. I can't even come up with an insulting name for you."

"I don't think that's a symptom of…"

"Respect your elders! Don't they teach you that in Boy Scouts or whatever? I should probably tell you to get a haircut and get off my lawn while I'm at it."

"You live in an apartment."

"I could have a lawn if I wanted one. In fact, I might just move somewhere with a lawn so I can tell you to get off it!"

"Why would I be on your lawn?"

"I don't know, McGarden Gnome!" Tony suddenly jumped to his feet. "The episode has passed!"

"What episode?" Ziva asked testily, balancing a large brown bag on top of a tray of sodas. "And why did you leave me to carry all this upstairs?"

McGee tried to give her a supportive look as he made a grab for the sandwiches. "He's been babbling about how insulted he is that you think he's attractive." He took a bite of his sandwich before it had been sufficiently unwrapped, but he was past caring about the subtle flavors of deli paper. Swallowing the first bite, he continued, "For the record, I would not be insulted by something that sounds like a compliment."

"Sounds like, McGee. _Sounds like_. That's the key." Tony made a wide circle around Ziva as he went for his own sandwich. "You see, our newly minted American girl here has a little secret she let slip last week in Observation."

She stabbed a straw through the plastic lid of a soda cup. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, only your confession that you're attracted to older men. And just now in the car, who did you say was attractive?" Tony did a double thumb-point at himself. "This guy."

McGee was lost, though he wasn't sure if asking for further clarification was a good idea given the fact that Ziva was crushing her still wrapped sandwich from a torpedo roll to a panini. The two bites of his chicken parm had not made it from his stomach to his brain yet, so he began, "I don't see why…?"

"She thinks I'm _old_," Tony interrupted. "She finds older men attractive, she thinks I'm attractive…it doesn't take a degree from MIT to manage that kind of math."

Ziva rolled her eyes and turned to McGee. "He hit on a younger woman in line at Sammy's and she did not reciprocate. I was attempting to make him feel better during the ride back."

"Yeah, well, you failed. Big ol' F for sensitivity on your report card. Old!" Tony took a massive bite of his Italian grinder. "Uh-be-leeffble."

Ziva sat down at her desk and carefully unwrapped her own sandwich. "You know, I never said that I find _only_ older men attractive."

McGee quirked an eyebrow. "So you're saying that you do think Tony is attractive?"

"Having ten fingers is a wonderful thing, is it not?"

"Point taken." McGee retreated, deciding that finishing his sandwich was a better idea than getting in the middle of another argument between Tony and Ziva.

Tony wasn't as willing to let it drop. "So have you always thought I was old, or is this just something you've noticed in the recent past?"

"I believe I noticed it at the same time I realized how annoying you are."

"Oh, so now I'm old _and_ annoying?"

She shrugged. "What can I say? You are multi-faceted."

Tony seemed perplexed for a moment before turning to McGee. "Was that a compliment or an insult, McTionary?"

"I think it was both." As he finished his sandwich, McGee realized he didn't care anymore. His colleagues were easier to take on a full stomach.


End file.
